


Something VVicked This Way Comes

by GwiYeoWeo



Category: Devil May Cry
Genre: Alternate Universe, Everything is Beautiful and Nothing Hurts, M/M, Meet-Cute, V is Not Part of Vergil (Devil May Cry), Witch!V, local young devil hunter develops a crush on the not-so-scary witch, vergil and dante and nero are a mostly functioning family of devil hunters
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-10-26
Updated: 2020-10-26
Packaged: 2021-03-08 21:55:20
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 4,604
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/27213763
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/GwiYeoWeo/pseuds/GwiYeoWeo
Summary: “Granted, I almost had Shadow lop his head off first. But after clearing up misunderstandings, he is currently at my residence and, I believe, still helping himself to some strawberry tarts. You may call me V, by the way.”Okay, that did sound like a Dante thing to do, and the witch — V, right, weird name — knew his uncle’s name without Nero ever mentioning it. “Nero,” he said, before he could think about the implications of giving his name to a witch, “You’re not planning on fattening us up and cooking us into a stew, right?”This time V stopped and turned his head over his shoulder, looking back with the first smile Nero’s seen him with. There’s a teasing tilt to it, eyes hooded in a certain implication that made Nero’s heart skip a beat.“Only if you’re a naughty child.”Nero signed up for some demon hunting — a.k.a tohuntdemons — not to get chased down by one (thanks to Dante). He also didn't sign up to get ambushed by the forest witch, but hey. He's not gonna complain too much about that part.
Relationships: Nero/V (Devil May Cry)
Comments: 5
Kudos: 89





	Something VVicked This Way Comes

Moments ago, Nero had been chasing down some ratty-looking demon, weaving in between trees and leaping over stumps and stones. The little fucker was  _ fast, _ its legs moving just as quick as its shit-spewing mouth. Nero had been a little more than just annoyed at all the crap it kept taunting with, effectively luring him away from Dante on their joint two-man mission in clearing out whatever demon den they’ve been commissioned to exterminate by the neighboring town. In hindsight, he really should have kept his temper in check; he had known the taunts for what they were, but he had still fallen for it. He kinda wished dad came along, even if it meant listening to him lecture his ear off on choosing the right tactic for the right demon.

And now he’s paying the price, by being the one under chase when just a second ago he had been the hunter, not the hunted. Yeah, sure, he had been expecting to fall into some sort of trap but nothing he couldn’t finesse or brute strength himself out of, right? Wrong. 

That little insult-slinging ratty-tatty ass had some friends. A  _ fuckton _ of ‘em, enough of them to basically coalesce and form this one very giant, very ugly rat godzilla thing. Every step sent the ground rumbling, flinging dirt and rocks by its feet and flattening whatever poor tree or shrubbery unfortunate enough to be in its path.

“Dante, where the ever-loving fuck are you?!” Nero screamed into the humid air, blindly zig-zagging his way through the dense forest. God, this place was a maze; and he hated mazes. It wasn’t this thick when they had first entered it, and navigating his way through it all for himself made him wish he had heeded the towns’ advice a little more diligently.

_ “The forest is cursed, traps any and all who dare wander into its depths,” an old woman said, offering a pear from her basket. “If the demons do not get you first, the witch will.” _

_ “Hol’ up. We didn’t sign up to deal with witches, just a little pest problem.” Dante interjected through a mouth half-full of freshly picked strawberries. “This wasn’t exactly in the job description.” _

_ She shook her head. “It is why we’ve endured the demons for so long, as to not anger the witch by trespassing into the forest. But we’ve lost so many brave men and women, even our children.”  _

_ Nero turned to his uncle, mouth already formulating a protest if Dante was going to chicken out because it was more work than what they signed up for. “Dante, we can’t just leave them to —”  _

_ “Woah, kid. I didn’t say we were gonna bail. Unless this little superstition has got your panties in a bunch? Wanna run home to ol’ Vergil so he can hold your hand at night?” _

Nero had almost decked him in the face for that, less for the taunt and more because he had been getting vulgar in front of a poor old lady.

But shit man, this forest was really giving him bad vibes, and not because of the vibrations of this stupid demon pounding the ground with each monstrous step. It was midday, sun still shining with no hint of rain when they started, and not even an hour’s passed but it was ominously dark now. Nero glanced up and wow, okay. When did the trees get so damn tall? The canopy looked at least a mile-high, the tree tops so dense there were only spackles of sunlight coming through. He tossed his head over his shoulder, confirming that the demon was still coming after him, but the overhead trees made it look like a dwarf now. At least he had a good distance between them, the threat of being squashed no longer an imminent threat now.

Still, not like Nero could run forever in hopes of miraculously running into Dante. He  _ could _ take it down by himself if he triggered, but he was still learning the ropes of actually triggering and keeping it stable. He had only just learned how to, and his recent attempts at bringing out his inner devil mostly ended up in fizzled failures with his face planted in the gravel while Vergil tsked in disapproval, looking none the worse for wear in his immaculate clothes. 

He drew in a deep breath, searched the “inner vestiges of your soul” and “tap into your primal instincts whilst keeping the balance” like dad kept telling him, but he only came up empty and with what he’s sure looked like a constipated face. 

“Fuck.” Nero spat out a curse between clenched teeth. He really shouldn’t have let Dante rope him into this in lieu of a rare night out into the city with dad. That should have been the first sign, honestly, because Vergil only wandered the streets during the day, mostly to browse antique stores or book shops and for the occasional chocolatey treat. 

Before he could delve any deeper into his strings of woes and throes, Nero recollected himself after he almost tripped over a thick vine, stumbling over more of them as he tried to get back his bearings and maintain his pace. But upon closer look, they weren’t green like ivy or brown like they were dried up. Through the scant sunlight that made it to the forest floor, he could see they were not even vines at all but thin ropes with odd little sigils and trinkets every few knots. 

When he looked up, he noticed there were actually a  _ lot _ of those sigils around, now that he’s recognized them. Some trunks sported out-of-place carvings with sharp edges or soft loops, scraps of paper hanging from branches, odd ornaments of silver or some sort of metal here and there. Nero knew them as wards, of spellcraft. 

Of a witch.

Oh shit. He did  _ not _ need to deal with a giant rat monster (made of at least a thousand smaller demon rats) and an angry witch at the same time. Nero didn’t have any experience with witches, never met one or fought one for that matter, but Trish had told him of some nasty dealings with them, very few of them ever ending well. Maybe, just maybe this was a nice witch? But remembering what that old lady said about the forest and angering said witch, the answer was most likely no.

_ ‘Just my luck, I swear to god if this witch turns me into a frog or something —’ _

But that’s the thing with irony. Speak of the devil and he shall appear. 

Nero skidded to a halt, coming face-to-face with a tall shadow of a man, looking like moonlight despite the pitiful rays of sun making their way down, stark and ominous waves cladding him like the black that shrouded him. 

Nero barely stopped in time, and he had to flail his arms out to his sides in an attempt to balance out the momentum that nearly sent him colliding with the dark stranger, only inches separating them when he caught himself. He looked up, eyes wide and mind running blank at the sudden chaos of it all, staring straight into deep haunting green eyes that seemed to reflect the dangerous secrets of the very woods they’re in. 

He’s regarded with almost a baleful gaze back, face unflinching save for the slight downward tilt of one corner of the man’s lips — and wow, Nero’s only seen those sorts of lips in Dante’s playboy mags. And those tats? Were they tats? ‘Cause that’s another wow. And he’s wearing a  _ corset _ underneath that jacket, holy shit. The guy’s like, dressed to kill, or something. Hopefully not Nero.

Which, with abrupt clarity, Nero remembered was Not Good. Trish said that while some witches were more amenable than others, they all shared a certain vanity, whether it be fashion or makeup or anything in between. And Mr. Tall, Dark, and Mysterious here, combined with his abrupt magic appearance, along with the super creepy aura Nero’s getting from him and his own demonic instincts rampaging against his ribs in warning, could only mean one thing.

_ ‘Fuck, he’s the witch.’ _

Immediately, Nero backed off a step, holding both his hands up in a show of peace, though having one hand holding Red Queen probably didn’t seem any less threatening. The witch didn’t seem concerned at the weapon, the only movement a slight shift in his legs to move some of the weight onto his cane. 

“I’m not looking for a fight,” Nero said, trying his best to keep his voice calm and level. 

“Pity. One’s certainly looking for you.”

Out of all the voices he expected, that deep earthy tone was not one of them. It was robust, unlike his wiry frame, but husky and smoking that gave Nero goosebumps. Well damn, he could read Nero one of his spellbooks and he’d say thank you even if it did turn him into a frog. 

But he had to save that notion for later, as the resounding thumping of the demon — the ‘fight’ that was looking for him, according to the witch — grew louder and closer, now caught up during Nero’s short stop. Aw hell.

“Uh, yeah, might wanna run unless you wanna be turned into fertilizer,” Nero warned, turning around to see the encroaching giant, slowly stepping backwards until he’s side-by-side with the man.

“Hm, I was curious as to what all the noise had been about,” the witch said, sounding way too chalant for a guy standing in front of a gross giant rat-dripping demon, “I am not overly fond of the ruckus, so I am afraid this party must end.” 

Nero was about to throw in his own two cents, but a deafening fingersnap resounded in the air. Sure, the forest was weird and creepy and dense and he’s no music expert, but the acoustics in here really shouldn’t allow something like that. He’s startled by some weird black dust in the periphery of his vision, and he swiveled his head around to see it flaking off the guy’s… white hair. Which, Nero could have sworn was black just a second ago. 

He didn’t get to dwell on that thought too long when out of butt fuck nowhere  _ another _ giant demon came barrelling in from the sidelines, body slamming into the rat amalgamation and taking it down with it. It looked pretty gross too, like goo that couldn’t decide whether to stay liquid or solid, and its glowing purple eyeball didn’t make it look any prettier — still, not as gross as rat bastard. 

Nero watched with slack-jawed awe as the golem went full-on ham, from swinging its blunt stubby arms to bitch-slapping to headbutting it, the air and the earth reverberating with each harsh beating. 

“Enough,” the witch ordered, voice resounding clear despite how low his voice was. He snapped his fingers again, hand high in the air, and the golem just sort of… shrank into itself like a black hole, space and physics distorting around it until it blinked out of existence. 

And teleported right fucking behind them, landing with a heavy thud that made Nero jump out of his skin. 

“Annihilate.”

Nero could almost forgive him, solely on the merit of how suave the witch sounded with that one word. Who knew an order of decimation could sound so sexy? Dante had a potential rival in the art of stylish demon hunting. If not for confidence and poise, then definitely for theatrics and lightning because ho-ho-holy shit, the golem started charging a damn  _ laser out of its eyeball _ and blasted the rat demon before it could even get back up, the sizzling so deafening he couldn’t even hear the demon’s scream in its last cries of death. The only evidence of there having ever been a demon in the first place was an ashen puddle of deep-fried rat carcasses already evaporating into thin air, the scent of electrified ozone and charred meat blowing away in the breeze.

Nero’s left so breathless, amazed, and unapologetically turned on in the aftermath of the carnage that he momentarily forgot the sheer danger he’s still in. Out of the frying pan and into the fire, because he might be rid of the rat godzilla demon, but now he’s got the infamous witch to deal with.

“Now, pray tell, why you’ve ventured so deep into my forest?” 

Nero ducked his head far down in between his shoulders, hoping to appease with his sheepish grin. “Um… would you believe me if I said I didn’t mean to? I, uh, got separated from my uncle trying to find a demon nest. Didn’t mean to barge in. Sorta.” 

“And the old wives’ tales didn’t sway you? I’m sure there are plenty of rumors of curses and hauntings surrounding these woods. You must be very brave or very foolish to ignore them.” 

For a supposedly vindictive witch, the man didn’t look like one. He seemed maybe a little annoyed — though Nero just met him and didn’t know him well enough to judge his moods or facial expressions — but not so upset to spit a few hexes on Nero, placid enough to flick something off his hair as the black resettled into his roots, giant one-eyed golem nowhere in sight now, and patient enough to let Nero stumble for words and an explanation.

“Runs in the family,” Nero simply replied, indicating not which trait he’s referring to. 

That earned him another blank stare, Nero unflinching and gazing right back, until the witch finally sighed and shook his head, mumbling something undecipherable to himself. “Come. It will be at least a week before the forest lets you out,” he said, already walking away and farther into the woods.

“Um?” Nero raised an eyebrow. There’s a few questions swirling around in his head, some regarding his own safety in following a complete stranger (who, technically, saved him in the first place) and where exactly he was going, even if he’s currently trotting up to cover the distance between them. But there’s his family to worry about, and while Nero had full confidence Dante could handle his own and then some, he didn’t trust his dumbass uncle to behave himself. “Okay, but my uncle came with me and —”

“Dante is safe and sound, I assure you,” the witch replied, still walking away.

“What?”

“Granted, I almost had Shadow lop his head off first. But after clearing up misunderstandings, he is currently at my residence and, I believe, still helping himself to some strawberry tarts. You may call me V, by the way.” 

Okay, that did sound like a Dante thing to do, and the witch — V, right, weird name — knew his uncle’s name without Nero ever mentioning it. “Nero,” he said, before he could think about the implications of giving his name to a witch, “You’re not planning on fattening us up and cooking us into a stew, right?”

This time V stopped and turned his head over his shoulder, looking back with the first smile Nero’s seen him with. There’s a teasing tilt to it, eyes hooded in a certain implication that made Nero’s heart skip a beat. 

“Only if you’re a naughty child.”

  
  
  


Nero stepped through the doorway of the unassuming cottage that looked way, way bigger on the inside than its exterior hinted at. It looked pretty cozy, sporting some potted plants dangling from the ceiling and ivy crawling around the walls, spacious clear windows that allowed in the sunlight that shone on the forest clearing the cottage was hidden away in. There’s a lot of bookshelves, an unlit fireplace, knickknacks and whatever that added personality but didn’t clutter. 

In the little space that he figured was the combined kitchen and dining area, Dante sat at a table, and true to V’s words, munching away on some treats, crumbs clinging to his scraggly beard and scattered around his plate. 

“Look what the witch dragged in,” Dante said, greeting with a two-fingered salute before stuffing his face again. “‘Sup, kiddo!”

Nero felt a brief flicker of relief in his chest to see Dante safe and sound; even if it took more than some demon pests or an overgrown rat to take him down, Nero still cared for his family’s wellbeing, dumbass uncle or not. But it was just that: brief. Soon enough, he’s filled with mild annoyance to see Dante so nonchalant and already making himself at home in a witch’s cradle. “‘Sup to you too,” Nero grumbled. 

V strode by, leaning his cane against the back of a chair, and went about the kitchen to bring out a platter of plain teacups and a clay pot, pouring out three cups of golden brown tea. 

Nero’s not sure how it’s still steaming when he knew they'd been out for at least a good thirty minutes until they got back here, and he didn’t see a lit fire or stove or even a kettle boiling water. But hey, witches and magic, right? 

Dante went straight for the tea, nodding his head in silent thanks, before downing it and washing away the tarts that must be crammed in his mouth. Nero took that as the OK to take his own seat and cup, sitting across from Dante at the table, with V sitting in between them.

There’s a stretch of silence among them that made Nero uncomfortable. He understood where Dante’s smug, uncaring attitude came from, but V seemed to be taking this too well considering he had just vaporized a giant demon and was now playing host to two trespassers. 

"I have guest rooms. You may rest in there or wander about the woods as you please, if you so wish, though please spare me the task of finding you should you get lost. I only ask that you do not ruin my wards if you come across them and ask before touching my garden." V looked pointedly at Dante and his mess when he said, "And do try your best to clean up after yourselves."

"Y'know," Dante finally spoke up with his rare voice of reason, "for an angry village witch, you're being awfully hospitable to us." There's a not so subtle suspicion in his tone and a very skeptical eye that Nero didn't blame him for; he was thinking the same thing. 

"Perhaps I plan on cooking you into a stew." V's lips tilted into a sarcastic smile, and he threw a glance at Nero’s way. "Just kidding — I don't fancy eating half-demons."

"So," Dante said, leaning back into his chair so far that he balanced his weight on its two hind legs. "You know about us."

"Only as much as the rumors claim. The trees have ears, the roots far-reaching."

_ "And there ain't a single demon out there that don't know yer name, superstar!" _

Nero nearly had a heartattack, and he half scrambled out of his chair when a huge fucking bird sprang out of V's skin, plopping itself right onto the table to peck at Dante's plate. 

  
  
  


Nero idley poked at Griffon’s belly, stomach plump and round after having stolen the rest of Dante’s snacks and gorging itself upon them. As freaky as it looked with its three-pupiled pairs of eyes and nightmare-inducing mouth, the demon was kinda cute when it snored away on its back, tummy side up and wings splayed on the table. 

“They may be my familiars but do keep in mind that they are still demons. I am not liable for any bites, scratches, or decapitations should you get bold,” V said, looking up from where he was putting away the plates and cups. 

“They? You got more of these little chickens?” Dante asked from the couch. He was sprawled all over it, one leg on the other end of the couch while another dangled off the edge, all peachy and looking way too comfortable in a stranger’s home. 

Well, V practically did tell them to make themselves at home, aside from some basic house rules that any decent person would follow. 

“Yes. You’ve met Shadow, and Nero had the pleasure of meeting Nightmare. But enough about us and more of you two,” V said, tossing one look at Dante and deciding to take his seat back at the table with Nero, “You said there was a demon nest here, the reason for your arrival and subsequent… deviation.”

“You can say lost, even if the kid there’s gonna deny it.”

“Stop calling me kid, old man!” Nero shot back, temper briefly flaring before settling back down. Manners, manners. He had to mind his manners around a kind stranger, even if that stranger was a suspicious witch that could  _ definitely _ be plotting something — V looked like the plotting time, he just did. Dante and Vergil may not be the best in terms of parenting, but Kyrie and Credo taught him at least basic etiquette. Nero often fell short of them, but he could at least try. Leave it to Dante to try to ruin that though.

The way V quirked his lips up in the ghost of a smile, disappearing as it soon had arrived, at least tampered down the rest of Nero’s lingering irritation. It was kind of — no, very — weird how V affected him, having only met and all, but Nero chalked it up to some funky witchy voodoo magic, like the whole ‘ooooh, bewitching siren enslaving everyone he makes eye contact with’ kind of shindig. That’s what witches did, right? 

“Yes, well. I could help you find it, at least to settle the town’s nerves and all. I don’t need anymore people wandering into the forest to pin more blame than necessary on me. I’ve made up my own reputation, but I don’t appreciate baseless accusations.”

“So you  _ did _ curse this forest. How come?”

“I didn’t, though these are the words of a prime suspect I imagine, and I don’t fault you for not believing me.” When neither Dante nor Nero said anything more, V took that as a silent notion to explain further. He said nothing for a moment, as if to weigh his words, forehead creasing a bit and lips twitching around unspoken words, before deciding to speak more of it. “I’ve a brother. Urizen, another witch. He dabbled in the more… dangerous arts, forbidden spells you could say, in his search for power. He used this forest as a base of sorts, attempting to summon and grow a tree from the Underworld. Needless to say, he failed, and his experiment led to disastrous kickbacks. I’ve taken to fixing up his mess, cleansing the area of the residual magics and closing any wayward portals that may rise. Spread a few rumors around to keep humans from entering.” 

Dante snorted. “Sounds like someone I know.”

“Explains the demon nests,” Nero pointedly said, glaring daggers at his uncle. He knew exactly who Dante was talking about, and even if he did agree, no need to talk smack about dad behind his back.

“Correct. I’ve thrown my net far and wide, but sometimes a few demons will pass under my detection. Unfortunately, a barrier spell of mine clashed with my brother’s magic, and so this forest sometimes traps those who enter, instead of keeping them out.” 

“Wait a minute.” Nero stopped scritching Griffon’s belly, earning him a little grumble, and started to realize the true gravity of his situation. “So we’re basically trapped here until you’re done with fixing all this? How long have you even lived here?”

Vergil could be standoffish at times, but even he could show a little concern here and there for his son and brother’s safety. Give him long enough and surely he’d end up searching for his family himself and ultimately end up in their same predicament. Plus, Nero wasn’t sure if it was a good idea to leave his dad to man the telephone all by himself; his customer service skills were pretty lacking. They did have a family business to run, after all, and there were demons aplenty popping left and right making snacks out of people. 

“Fear not. The magic here is still very unstable but nothing terribly disastrous. In due time a crack will appear, give or take a week, and you’ll be on your way back home.” V said, getting up from his seat and walking past to fish out a wicker basket from the corner of the kitchen. When he returned, he unceremoniously dropped it right on top of Griffon, and the demon squawked and flapped its wings in irritation. 

“Hey, watch it! I ain’t a coaster!” it screeched, wiggling out from underneath the basket. With a shake of its tail feathers and a huff, it grumbled something else under its breath, a word or two about being ungrateful and delicate goods, before disappearing into a cloud of dust that crawled up V’s hand and settled back into his skin. 

Nero wondered what that felt like, or if V felt anything at all.

“In the meantime, make yourself useful and come pick tonight’s dinner from the garden with me. A sprightly youth such as yourself should be more than capable of that, yes?”

Nero figured he really could do at least that much, considering he's basically free loading in V's home, but he did have to wonder why him and not Dante too. 

“And we can leave your dear uncle to take an afternoon nap, as most old men tend to wont.” 

“Hey, pretty boy, I ain’t that old!” Dante squawked back, very much in fashion like Griffon earlier. 

Nero snickered behind a hand, though it didn’t go unnoticed under V’s watchful eye. They caught each other wearing similar smirks, V’s a little lopsided that Nero came to notice was a cute quirk of his, the way one corner of his lips pulled back a bit more than the other. 

He realized, then, that V made a jab at Dante, the big bad legendary devil hunter, as a little petty revenge for Nero. 

There was a hundred and one ways to feel about that one, but Nero didn’t mind any of them at all. Hell, he’d stay a hundred and one days and then some if he could feel one of those for each day if he could. Being stuck in the middle of nowhere in some haunted forest didn’t seem so intimidating anymore, and it felt more like a vacation from his crazy little family. Wouldn’t that be nice? To come chill out in the woods with the sun peaking in between leaves, picking at ripe tomatoes and feeling the soft loam in between his fingers, all in the quiet company of a pretty witchy stranger.

Nero might not actually have a hundred days to spend here, but that didn’t mean he couldn’t enjoy an afternoon of it in V’s garden.

“Sounds like something an old man would say,” Nero shot back, taking the opportunity to gang up on Dante. 

He wrapped his hand around the handle of the basket, brushing against V’s fingers where they still haven’t moved — and still didn’t, even as Nero pressed a little more firmly against him. He shared a silent look with V, whose smile turned into something more inviting and stomach-curling, lids lowered and butterfly eyelashes hiding a little secret that Nero desperately wanted to know about.

Nero didn’t know much about witches, but as V lifted his hand and purposely brushed his fingers against Nero’s knuckles, turning and walking away with a teasing sashay to his hips, he was sure as hell that this was a kind of different magic altogether.

**Author's Note:**

> time got away from me and this was the only thing i could deliver out of all the other wips i had in mind (꒪⌓꒪)
> 
> (this was initially supposed to be a dante/v fic, but uh... nero weaseled himself in somehow)


End file.
